


Vilkiukas

by SuddenlySullen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, M/M, Scenting, Vampire Will Graham, Werewolf Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlySullen/pseuds/SuddenlySullen
Summary: "He laughs, then. It's a soft sound, but definitely there. Will can see the tips of his teeth in his mouth, crooked and flat and very human. When he sits down, Will sniffs slightly and gets his first scent of him. It's the only time he's ever worried that he might drink from a person. Every person's scent is wholly unique and equally repulsive, except this one. This scent threatens to send Will feral in Jack Crawford's office. He takes a mental inventory of where Jack's gun is at that very moment, just in case."
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 407





	Vilkiukas

* * *

"Quiet, please," Will calls out over the near-silent whispers in his class. "It has very obviously not escaped your notice that one of my many gifts is exceptional hearing. I highly recommend that you save your personal conversations for after class and dump him." 

A soft laugh ripples across the room, but his class seems to heed the warning. He finishes his lecture on the Chesapeake Ripper without further incident and assigns them all to come up with their own theories about him. 

"I think you scared some of them out of finishing the course," Jack Crawford's voice calls from the doorway after the room has emptied. 

"If that's all it takes to scare them off then it's probably for the best that they quit now," Will answers in a clipped tone. "What can I do for you, Jack?" 

"I've got a body I need you to look at. It might be him."

"Jack," Will sighs. "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this."

Jack steps forward, still keeping his distance. "Your eyes are still red. How long has it been?" 

"Forever, Jack. You know that. I can't do it." Will packs his things into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

Jack's jaw tenses. "There's donors now, Will. A lot has changed in ten years."

"I know there's donors. I can't do it. Now, if you're done acting like my mother, would you like to tell me where we're going?" 

It's an easy case. Almost too easy. At first Will thinks he must have missed something. Then, he sees the way Jack is looking at him and knows that this was just the most convenient excuse to see him, either to see if he'd eaten yet or see if he was going to snap. He tries to feel out how Jack might respond if he did actually snap. He can see it perfectly. 

_ Jack would run in, completely convinced that he could talk Will down. He'd have his gun drawn before speaking because he's confident, not stupid. He'd tell Will that it didn't have to be that way. When that didn't work, he would shoot Will directly in the chest. He'd keep shooting, even though it wouldn't put him down. When he ran out of bullets, he would keep fighting until Will had drained the blood from him _ .

The last of that thought rips Will from his vision. As correct as it might be from Jack's point of view, he knows he could never feed on Jack. The smell would put him off immediately. He'd vomit before it ever made it down his throat. 

Once they're back in Jack's office, he breaks the news that Freddie Lounds had posted a picture of the body, taken by local PD.

"Tasteless," Will snarls, showing teeth. 

"Do you have trouble with taste?" A voice that Will doesn't recognize speaks up from the doorway. 

Will keeps his lip pulled up, displaying his fangs. "My thoughts are often not tasty." 

"Nor mine," the man in the doorway keeps his eyes locked on Will's, not shying away from him. Will looks away first. For the first time he can remember since he turned. "No effective barriers."

"I build forts," Will snaps. 

The man cocks his head to one side. "Associations come quickly."

"So do forts." 

He laughs, then. It's a soft sound, but definitely there. Will can see the tips of his teeth in his mouth, crooked and flat and very human. When he sits down, Will sniffs slightly and gets his first scent of him. It's the only time he's ever worried that he might drink from a person. Every person's scent is wholly unique and equally repulsive, except this one. This scent threatens to send Will feral in Jack Crawford's office. He takes a mental inventory of where Jack's gun is at that very moment, just in case. 

"Will Graham, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He agreed to come help us find exactly who killed our man quickly so that we can stop any more pictures from making it to the press." 

~ 

Will wakes from a restless sleep to a knock on his hotel room door. He almost rolls over and goes back to sleep, but the knock comes again, so his sleep-addled brain thinks it might be news about the case. He expects Jack. When he opens the door, though, Hannibal Lecter stands before him. 

"Good morning," Hannibal says. "I hope I didn't wake you. My impression was that you would be awake during the night. I had thought to apologize before we headed to the office this morning." 

"No, I wasn't really asleep. Just sort of… here Apologize for what?" Will rubs at his eyes. 

"May I come in?" Hannibal smiles, almost too politely. Will's eyes drift to focus on his mouth. He shows none of his teeth. 

Will moves to the side and motions for Hannibal to come in. As he passes by, Will inhales and the smell of him floods Will's senses. It might have made his mouth water if he weren't so, for lack of a better word, dehydrated. After he passes, Will shuts and bolts the door. He expects to hear a sharp breath when Hannibal realizes that he's locked in a room alone with a vampire, but there's nothing. Will can't help but wonder if he's the same brand of confident that Jack is. He tries to read Hannibal, but can't quite get a feel for him. He blames it on being tired and hungry, writing it off. 

"I'm just gonna put some pants on," Will says as Hannibal sits down at the small table. 

When Will returns, there are two plates set out, both with food on them. 

"Doctor Lecter, I'm not sure if you're blind or if you hadn't heard, but -"

"I am aware that you are a vampire, Will. I am also aware that vampires can eat and drink human food."

"I can't eat that," Will shakes his head. 

Hannibal cocks his own head to one side, silently inviting Will to continue talking. Usually, Will would find it annoying, but Hannibal smells too good and the food too disorienting for him to notice.

"It's… The smell makes me sick." He almost regrets sharing this information as soon as it's out of his mouth. The only thing that stops him is the passive look on Hannibal's face. 

"The coffee is mostly blood, if you prefer. I thought a touch of caffeine might be well received," Hannibal sets a thermos on the table. His own mug, Will notices, contains a tea bag and none of his blood coffee. 

Will shakes his head. He thinks he might cry tears of gratitude if he could. "Thank you. Really. You have no idea how much I want to, but I just can't." 

"When did you last feed, Will?" It's a soft, curious question. When Hannibal asks, it doesn't feel like an interrogation. 

"Never." Will looks up to meet Hannibal's eyes for a moment and sees the burning curiosity there. "It's been 10 years since I was turned."

"Is that why you're looking at me like a meal?" 

Will feels his eyes go wide before he tears them away from Hannibal entirely. "No. I would never-"

"Will," Hannibal interrupts him. "I do not ask out of concern for my safety." 

"Still no," Will says, softer this time. "It's just you. You smell - there isn't a word in English for how you smell, I don't think."

"Dor," Hannibal says with a slight roll of the 'r' sound. "It's a Romanian word, but I think it might be the one you're looking for." After a pause, he adds: "You also have a unique and quite pleasing scent. I missed it the first time we met under that horrendous aftershave."

"I thought humans couldn't scent vamps," Will bristles slightly, wondering how many people had been sniffing him. 

Hannibal smiles for real this time, almost predatory in the way he bares his teeth. "You presume me human." 

Will's phone rings before he can process what Hannibal has said. Jack demands their presence to get to work on the case. Throughout their time working together, Will feels himself drawn to Hannibal, both by the fact that he has the only tolerable scent and by his personality. Something about Hannibal makes Will feel comfortable existing in his presence in a way that he generally just isn't. 

Hannibal pats him on the back while the local police chief sings their praises to Jack. It doesn't make Will want to break his arm, which is a startling change from his usual response to touch. 

"Would you join me for dinner?" Hannibal asks him. 

Will pinches his brows together. "I can't eat."

Hannibal smiles all the way to his eyes. "You'll have to forgive the phrase. I think we have much to discuss that would be better done in private and I would like to invite you to my home."

"That's a myth, you know," Will says with a smirk. "The thing about vampires needing to be invited in."

"Some invitations are simply polite, Will, not superstitious," Hannibal's tone is sharp, but his eyes are still light. 

"I accept your invitation, Dr. Lecter," Will concedes. 

~ 

Will sits down at Hannibal's table, questions threatening to claw their way from his throat. There are two place settings, so he assumes they must be waiting on someone else, since he had clearly told Hannibal he had no interest in eating. When Hannibal enters the room, though, he simply moves the place setting from the empty seat to in front of Will. He smells especially enticing, for a reason that Will can't quite pin down, but it has his vision hazing over from the effort to not sink his teeth into the neck that's dangling so close to his mouth. He almost wonders if Hannibal might be doing it intentionally.

Hannibal pours a glass of wine and Will stops breathing. He knows he won't be able to help the face he'll make if he smells it and he doesn't want to be rude. 

"You might like this one," Hannibal says as he's ladling soup first into Will's bowl, then his own. "Indulge me."

When Will picks the glass up and halfway breathes in, he's entirely unprepared for the way that venom and sticky saliva are pouring into his mouth. His eyes flick from Hannibal to the glass and he can see perfectly what happened, both as if an outsider watching and as if he were looking through Hannibal's eyes.

_ Hannibal slides the needle easily into his arm. His hands are experienced ones. They do not hesitate, nor do they shake. He is an artist, the human body a canvas. A surgeon, once. The tube runs down, fed by gravity. It drains the blood from his veins as he sips on water that probably costs more than most bottles of wine. He ferments and bottles it himself, better to monitor whose hands have touched this thing he's created, a piece of himself - this new art. It is as much his body as it is an offering. This is his design. _

Will knows it hasn't been even a few seconds since the smell hit his nostrils, but he feels like he's spent weeks inside of Hannibal's mind. He downs the glass of wine in one long gulp, not pausing at all to pretend that he needs to breathe. 

"I take it you find the wine palatable?" Hannibal sips lightly from his own glass. 

When Will sets the glass down he's careful, but once his hands are no longer touching the crystal they find themselves clutched on the edge of the table. Hannibal's taste and scent surrounds him, inside and out. It rests on the back of his tongue and deep in his belly where he had almost started to forget what being full felt like. He nods helplessly, still looking down at the bowl in front of him. 

"A similar recipe," Hannibal's voice mumbles somewhere far off. 

Will forgets the last of his manners when he picks the bowl up with two hands and starts drinking directly from it. 

"The meat is a beef heart, though it has been flushed completely and injected with the blood of a willing donor." 

"It's you." Will surprises himself with the raw sound of his voice. 

Hannibal smiles, showing teeth. "Of course. You have said that you find blood to be… distasteful, but that doesn't seem to have extended to myself." 

"There seem to be a lot of rules that don't apply to you," Will grumbles with much less bite than he means to. 

Hannibal only offers a half-shrug and takes another sip of his own wine. 

Will wants to keep arguing, but Hannibal gets up and refills his wine glass for him, which has his mouth full once again. This time he tries to savor more of the taste, to find the memory of how Hannibal's blood had been procured in the chemical makeup of it. He feels more alive than he felt even when he was actually alive. 

"You have blue eyes," Hannibal observes. 

Will looks up. "I used to." 

Hannibal hums. "The red suits you, but I think I prefer the aesthetic of the blue."

"I think there were easier ways to find out my eye color than bleeding yourself dry and cooking a four course meal with it." 

"Perhaps," Hannibal shrugs. "None seemed as interesting."

"What if I went feral?" Will looks up from his emptied glass. 

"We would have dealt with that when it became a problem."

Will tries not to relax. His shoulders drop anyway. "There are easier ways to kill yourself." 

"I am not dead. And now you have a full stomach," Hannibal tips his glass towards Will.

When Hannibal empties his own bowl, he stands and starts to clear the dishes. Will follows, unsure what it is he's supposed to do, but feeling pulled to keep his eyes on Hannibal. 

"I assume you have room for dessert?" Hannibal meets his eyes with one hand on the refrigerator door. 

Will nods, stomach twisting with want. 

Hannibal sets a bowl of what looks like pudding down on the counter in front of Will. "Sanguinaccio dolce," he tells Will. "Traditionally made with pig's blood, but with the recipe altered slightly for our purposes." 

It takes all of Will's self control to use a spoon and not shove his face into the bowl. The taste almost makes his knees buckle. He can't stop the deep, helpless moan around the spoon. Hannibal's cheeks are twitching from the effort of hiding how pleased he is with himself. Will wishes he wouldn't bother, but can't bring himself to stop eating to tell him so. He scrapes every bit from the bottom of his bowl, sighing softly with satisfaction when it looks almost clean enough to go back to the cupboard. 

"Thank you, Hannibal," Will says when the bowl is moved from in front of him. 

Hannibal does let himself smile, one of the ones that shows his teeth that he seems to save just for Will. Will would be lying if he said he didn't feel just a little pride at the thought. "No need, Will. You are a friend who was in need of a meal. I enjoy cooking."

"Ten years, Hannibal. Why you?" Will leans forward to scent the air around him. 

Hannibal leans into it, letting his smell wash through Will's senses. "The body wants what it wants." 

"What does your body want?" Will's surprised that he even asks. He recognizes the come-on as soon as it's working its way up his throat, but doesn't stop it. The satisfaction in his belly is sending all kinds of new sensation through his body, most of which he has no idea what to do with. 

Hannibal scents the air around Will, not even bothering to hide it. "You smell divine." 

"What are you?" Will starts to move around the counter, slow enough that Hannibal could move away if he wanted to. 

Hannibal doesn't move away, lets Will move directly into his personal space. "Why don't you tell me?"

"You can't be human." Will brings his face down into the curve of Hannibal's neck. "Even a brave human couldn't hide their fear with something like me this close. You can't be undead because you bleed." 

"And where does that leave us?" 

"There are no more werewolves in North America," Will says out loud as he's thinking through the situation. "They hunted them out in the 1800s." 

Hannibal nods along, smiling. 

"That's it, isn't it? You were never registered." Will scents Hannibal again and he can find the slight traces of smell that aren't quite human, now that he knows what he's looking for. "What happens if I bite you?" 

"Would you like to find out?" Hannibal tips his head to the side, baring more of his neck to Will's mouth. "I'm not sure anyone has tried. There are so few of your kind and mine. Those who interact generally don't all live to tell about it, nor do I think they would feel inclined to share with human scholars." 

The temptation is almost enough for Will to try it. "How did you know it would be safe for me to feed from you?" 

"I didn't," Hannibal admits. "But much longer as you were and you were going to go feral anyway. It seemed a necessary risk." 

Will finally allows there to be contact between them. His hands rest on Hannibal's hips, holding him close. Hannibal takes it for the invitation it is and presses his nose directly into the space behind Will's jaw. 

"What do I smell like?" Will rubs small circles into the soft flesh of Hannibal's hips with his thumbs. 

Hannibal makes a soft, growling sort of noise. "Me." 

When Hannibal surges forward, Will is unsure he actually could stop him if he tried. There's a strength there that is so far from human. It makes him whine with want as he's being walked backwards up the stairs. He can't remember the last time he had truly been manhandled. It should unsettle him, he thinks. Instead, he feels himself relaxing into it. The loss of control halts the barrage of thoughts that constantly batter his mind. They stop every few steps to paw at each other's chests or exchange kisses. By the time they make it to the top of the stairs, they're both panting and disheveled.

Hannibal pushes him down onto a bed with the softest sheets he's ever felt. The bulk of Hannibal's frame settles over him, seeming much larger than Will thought. Then, to Will's surprise, he stops. 

"What would happen if I bite you?" Hannibal looks like he's almost drooling when he asks. 

Will smiles, looking up at his face. "Would you like to find out?" 

"More than anything," Hannibal comes forward to mouth gently at the side of his neck. "Older texts written by lycans describe the scent of vampires as 'the sweet death' - I think I'm starting to understand." 

"I'd let you, I think." Will whines. "If you promised to feed me I think I'd let you do anything." 

Hannibal groans. Will almost doesn't see the very slight change in the shape of his teeth as they grow longer and more pointed. They stop before anything else changes, but he knows and can't stop thinking about how they would feel breaking through his skin. 

"Everything from humans says vampires feel like marble to the touch. You're so soft," Hannibal is mouthing, with teeth, but making no effort to break skin. Will thinks he would let Hannibal take him apart if he wanted to. 

Will tries to even his breathing. "It's all tension. Those  _ studies _ were done years ago on captives. Touch me at a crime scene sometime. You'll see how hard I can be." 

"I rather like you soft," Hannibal says before sucking hard on the flesh of Will's shoulder. "Are you saying you feel imprisoned in your work?" 

"Am I not?" Will tips his head up to bare his neck. "Even death can't release me anymore. God, that sounds so broody. I'm a stereotype. Please, no more therapy in bed." 

"You could stop." Hannibal actually seems convinced.

Will knows that Hannibal is baiting him into continuing the conversation. He still bites. "Could I?" 

"Why bother with the lives of humans? Whether they live 20 years or 80 years, their lifespan will eventually be inconsequential compared to yours." He's sniffing in Will's hair just behind his ear now and the maybe-still-human parts of him actually find it comforting. 

"I always liked dogs," Will observes, not really meaning to say it out loud. 

Hannibal pulls slightly back. "I think from anyone else, I would be insulted to be compared to a dog. From you, that first time, I was offended at being compared to a man." 

"What do you think you are?" 

Hannibal hums, but doesn't answer, too busy sniffing at Will. 

"Is it rude to ask how it works?" Will closes his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of Hannibal's breath against his skin. 

"Not for you," Hannibal murmurs. 

"The full moon thing - true or false?" One of Will's hands pets down Hannibal's back. 

Hannibal huffs the softest hint of a laugh. "Completely false. I change when I want to. No more, no less."

"Earlier, I said something and it looked like you were about to," Will watches his face to catch the slight edge of Hannibal being caught off guard. 

"Many lose control when presented with strong emotions and may change unwittingly." 

Will grins. "I almost made you lose control? I'll have to try and do it again."

Hannibal hums, either in agreement or just to keep Will talking. Will isn't sure he cares which. 

"Two legs or four?" 

"Four," Hannibal answers easily between mouthing at Will's skin. 

"What do you look like?" Will finally asks the question he really wants the answer to. 

Hannibal presses into his shoulder with teeth, hard enough to be felt without breaking skin. "I don't know. It has been a very long time since I changed and never in front of others." 

"I bet you're beautiful," Will sighs, trying to imagine it. Hannibal probably has dark fur, nearly black but with red undertones. Nothing like his outward persona. He runs his fingers through the soft blond hair of Hannibal's scalp, trying to picture the feel of thick wolf fur in his hands. 

Hannibal hums in response, licking a long stripe over the side of Will's neck.

"I had dogs," Will says. "Before this. A lot of dogs. They were scared, though. After. They found good homes. I never tried to get more. It's been… too quiet." 

"You keep connecting me to dogs," Hannibal says, his tone still lighthearted. 

Will closes his eyes and smiles when Hannibal's hands move up and down his sides. "You did just lick me," he teases. "You listen like the dogs. There's no… judgement or worry or whatever. Pity is the worst. But you just listen."

"I am a psychiatrist, Will. That is my job."

Will shakes his head. "It's different. I'm not paying you but you're listening."

"I enjoy your company." 

Will whimpers with want. His skin feels electric everywhere that Hannibal has touched. Hannibal mouths and nuzzles at every piece of exposed skin he can find. Both of Will's hands curl into Hannibal's sides, clutching at him. His hips rock up into Hannibal, grinding their lengths together. Will moans, deep and desperate. Hannibal responds with a soft growl and more of his teeth on Will's body. His hand works its way between them, opening the front of both their pants so that their cocks can press together. One calloused hand wraps around them both, drawing whines from the back of both their throats. 

Hannibal's strokes are slow and teasing at first. Will's nails dig into his sides when he tries to pull Hannibal in closer. When Hannibal doesn't speed up his strokes, Will bucks up into his hand. Hannibal's fist squeezes them both, cutting off the friction and making their moans hitch and stutter. Without thinking, Will snaps his teeth in frustration. He almost feels guilty until he sees Hannibal's smirk. Then, he dips his head down to drag his teeth over the shell of Hannibal's ear. Hannibal lifts his head, pressing their foreheads together as his breath starts to come faster. Will forgets to breathe at all.

"Please," Will whines, unsure quite what he's asking for, just that Hannibal is the only one that can give it to him. 

Hannibal kisses the edge of Will's mouth, then speeds up his strokes. Will comes without warning and with a low snarl. His body produces no fluid, but the bow of his spine is unmistakable. Just when Hannibal's touch starts to border on 'too much', his cock spurts between them. Consciously, Will decides to inhale. The smell of Hannibal's arousal is almost enough to wear away his self control and drive him to bite into Hannibal's flesh. Instead, he drags a hand through the sticky fluid on his stomach and brings it to his mouth.

Hannibal's eyes go wide when Will starts to lick and suck his fingers clean. He replaces Will's hand with his own, covering his fingers in his own spend. He offers them to Will gently, with hope and not expectation on his face. Will watches Hannibal's face as he takes two fingers into his mouth. Venom and saliva drip around Hannibal's fingers, covering Will's chin as he keeps tongueing them long after they've been cleaned of come. Hannibal watches the way that Will's throat works as he tries to open his throat so that his fingers can find their way even deeper inside him. 

"Will," Hannibal purrs. "If you want to eat me, there is still wine downstairs." 

Will releases his fingers, jaw hanging slack. He thinks he should apologize for losing himself as much as he did, but he isn't sorry. Instead, he brings a hand to Hannibal's hair and lightly scratches at his scalp with his nails. Hannibal relaxes into him, laying his head on Will's chest.

"That was," Will sighs. "You're amazing." 

"We should shower," Hannibal says, but makes no effort to move himself from where he lays on top of Will.

"I usually don't," Will admits. "I don't sweat, so," he shrugs. 

"Do you allow yourself a single moment of indulgence, Will? One moment to yourself to enjoy something?" There's curiosity in Hannibal's voice.

"Until very recently, it didn't seem worth it," Will says. His hand combs idly through Hannibal's hair. "I'm starting to see the appeal."

The pride Hannibal is feeling would be obvious to Will even without the help of his empathetic tendencies. It practically rolls off him. He falls asleep on top of Will in slow steps. His muscles soften first, all their deceptive power relaxing into Will one at a time. His face relaxes last, smoothing out the soft wrinkles in his cheeks and forehead. Will thinks it's the most vulnerable anyone has been with him, maybe in his entire life. He thinks, if Hannibal asked, there isn't anything he would be able to deny him. 

Will doesn't sleep. Instead, he watches carefully over Hannibal and thinks of the ways that he wants to taste him. 

Hannibal startles awake from an obvious nightmare in the middle of the night with a low growl before realizing the scent of the person in his bed. Then he noses into the curve of Will's neck, breathing in as much of it as he can.

Will strokes a hand down his back. "I didn't sleep well, even before," he confides in Hannibal. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Someday," Hannibal says with a shake of his head. "Not now."

"Is there anything else I can do?" Will pulls him a little tighter before even getting an answer. 

"Don't stop," Hannibal murmurs into his chest. 

Will nuzzles into Hannibal's hair and keeps his hand moving in slow strokes over his back for the rest of the night.

~

"I want to see you," Will murmurs into the side of Hannibal's neck. 

Hannibal sighs. "If there is anyone on earth who has seen me, Will, it is you." 

"You know what I mean," Will grumbles. 

Will can feel the muscles in Hannibal's neck move under his mouth when he nods slightly. 

"I'll even make you a deal," Will smiles. "After you catch me, you can fuck me." 

Hannibal growls deep in his chest. When Will pulls back he can see the fangs lengthening in his mouth and dark hairs starting to grow on his skin. He resists the urge to just stay and watch, not wanting to give up on their game. 

He takes off running out his front door and into the woods as fast as he can. If his neighbors looked out their windows, they'd only see a blur of movement. He isn't sure why, but he expects to hear some kind of howl when Hannibal takes off from his porch. Instead, it's the thundering of paws behind him that tells him he needs to run faster. 

The heavy steps behind him grow louder and Will feels the closest to an adrenaline rush that he's had since before he turned. He weaves easily between trees, hoping to force Hannibal to stop and follow him by scent. 

When he approaches the stream, he leaps over it, but is slammed to the ground almost as soon as he makes it over. Sharp teeth grip around the back of his neck and into the sides of his throat, pressing into his flesh just enough to break skin. A deep growl rumbles through the wolf on top of him and for the briefest moment he isn't sure that it's his wolf. He inhales slightly, reassuring himself with the familiar scent that greets him. Then, as fast as they latched on, the teeth leave his neck and a giant muzzle is sniffing its way down his body. One paw pushes between his shoulder blades and Will is grateful that he doesn't actually need the air in his lungs. 

Hannibal tears at Will's pants without warning, ripping a hole in the back of them. Will shivers when the cool air hits the inside of his thighs. Hannibal doesn't seem to notice, too preoccupied with sniffing between Will's legs. The sudden drag of a long tongue over his hole makes him tense, unable to moan without air in his lungs. A low noise vibrates through Hannibal's chest before he plunges his tongue back between Will's cheeks. 

Pinned in place, Will can only claw and grind his hips into the dirt to try and relieve some of the tension in his gut. When Hannibal finally works his tongue inside of Will, Will thinks there might be tears streaming down his face. His skin feels like it's been lit on fire. If he could speak, he would be begging Hannibal to give him any kind of relief. Instead, he can only spread his legs wide and encourage him to work his tongue further inside of him. Not that Hannibal needs encouragement. For his part, he seems completely oblivious to Will outside of licking every inch of his insides. 

When Will does come, it's in soft waves that leave him aching for more. The waves don't stop because Hannibal doesn't stop. They keep Will on the edge of "too much" and "not enough" for what feels like hours. His fingers feel cramped from clutching at the ground. 

All at once, he realizes that the tongue inside him feels very much human. The weight on his back is no longer a crushing paw, it is a gentle hand. He simply forgot to breathe. Once the air hits his lungs, he lets out every whimper and moan and plea he had been holding inside. Hannibal pulls away, leaving Will sobbing at the loss. 

"Hush, sweet boy," Hannibal says with a soft glint in his eyes. "We should return to your house for the rest of the evening and then I'll give you what you need."

Will nods, struggling to communicate to his limbs that they need to get up. Before they figure it out, Hannibal's arms are under him, lifting him up and carrying him out of the woods. Hannibal deposits him back on his bed and is immediately on top of him, kissing him impatiently. 

"Please," Will gasps into his mouth.

Hannibal smiles against his lips. He nudges the scraps of Will's pants off his hips, palming the flesh of his waist on the way. 

"Baby," Will purrs. "I thought we had a deal." 

The hand on his waist drifts downward and Hannibal pulls away with a soft exhale. "How would you have me?" 

Will lets out a long whine. "You could have had me back there in the dirt, Hannibal. Please." 

Hannibal's hands grip under Will's thighs, pushing them up and spreading them apart. Will can feel the blush on his cheeks, but keeps them where Hannibal puts them. Hannibal's fingers push over his hole, feeling the wetness from his own tongue. When he finally puts pressure behind them, they slide into Will without resistance and draw a deep groan from his chest. 

"Baby, please," Will struggles to hold still. "You can't hurt me." 

Hannibal raises an eyebrow at the statement, but withdraws his fingers. He lets his weight fall onto Will, pressing their chests together as his cock slides in. Will tries to lock his ankles behind Hannibal's back, but his legs are quickly pushed back to being spread open. He whines, but leaves them, if only to enjoy the feeling of Hannibal's fingers pinning them to the mattress.

The roll of Hannibal's hips is slow, hitting places deep inside of Will that he didn't know existed. He grabs at Hannibal's back, leaving deep scratches that fill the air with the scent of blood. He comes again, arching his back off the bed. Hannibal follows not long after, burying himself to the hilt before his cock starts to pulse.

When Hannibal finally pulls out and lets himself go limp on top of Will, they spend a few long moments licking into each other's mouths before settling into a quiet tangle of limbs. 

"Let me clean you up," Hannibal finally says. 

Will grumbles and turns to nuzzle into Hannibal's neck. "I'm fine." 

"Darling, your face is covered in dirt," Hannibal kisses his nose. "And so are the fingernails you used to rake open my back." 

Will feels his eyes go wide. "I'm so sorry. Come on, I'll clean them for you." 

~

It's a week later that Jack calls Will to look at a new body. He knows immediately when he gets there that it is the work of the Chesapeake Ripper, even though Jack seems doubtful. The bodies are both vampires. Killing one vampire alone would be nearly impossible for a human. Two is unheard of. They lay posed in a prop cave at a local park, public enough that they must have been placed quickly and recently. Will has a feeling of recognition when he looks at the pose, but can't quite place it.

"Call Hannibal," he tells Jack. "This is referential, but I don't know the source material."

"It is a parody of the myth of Romulus and Remus. Your man did not find a wolf, it seems," Hannibal tells them. 

"It's intentional," Will says. "He doesn't forget things." His eyes are locked on Hannibal as he recreates the scene. 

_ Hannibal lured them from somewhere, probably together. He lulled them into thinking they had the upper hand because they assumed he was human. He slowed them with silver ropes and made them watch while he set the scene, then staked their hearts and left the stakes tossed to the side. He thought about Will while he was doing all of it. He knew that Will would see. The entire scene was set with Will in mind. This was the most important presentation yet. He needed Will to know that he loved him. _

Will tries to contain the gasp when he comes out of his vision. He blinks a few times, swallowing down the urge to drag Hannibal off into the woods and ask him what exactly the fuck he was thinking.

"It's disdainful." Will finally says. "He's making a commentary on society letting vampires suckle at their teat." 

Hannibal knows that Will is lying. They've spent enough time together now that he can see the tells on his face. What he doesn't know is the exact reason why he would lie unless he had come to a conclusion about the identity of the Ripper. 

Jack dismisses them both when he decides he's sucked all the information he can from them. They leave together, walking along the winding path that leads them out of the park instead of cutting through to the parking lot. 

"You lied to Jack," Hannibal murmurs once they're safely out of earshot. 

Will shoots him a sharp look. "So did you." 

"What makes you say that?" Hannibal cocks his head and gives Will a teasing smirk. 

A snarl tears through Will as he shoves Hannibal up against a tree. It's loud enough that he worries someone might have heard and come looking for the noise. "You think this is a game?"

"That depends on how willing you are to play," Hannibal replies. 

"If we're playing, then I think I've won this round. I  _ see _ you, Hannibal." He scrapes his teeth threateningly over the skin of Hannibal's ear.

"Oh, Will," Hannibal sighs. "We are two players of the same team. You just didn't know it yet."

"And now that I do?" Will releases Hannibal's jacket, but doesn't step away. 

"Now we discuss the rules."

Will backs off and they continue walking down the path out of the park in relative silence. Just as they're pulling out of the parking lot, Will realizes he blindly got into Hannibal's car and completely forgot his own.

"Rule number one," Will finally says. "Love letters come on paper."


End file.
